Paper Crown
by ctoan
Summary: Either you're one of us or you're not. Written for the Season 4 Advent Challenge.


When Ryan was seven, his mother enrolled him and Trey in the YMCA summer program. They offered reduced rates to families who needed it and it was a lot more fun than the summer before when they'd had to go to Mrs. Wilson's house, where it stank of kitty litter and mothballs, and they weren't allowed to make any noise in the afternoon while she watched her programs.

Twice a week they got to go to the pool, which was a big deal for a kid who lived inland California with parents who didn't often take their kids to fun things like a pool. He liked swimming but he dreaded pool days because the other boys all liked to dive in and jump off the diving board, but he was too scared. He was convinced he'd go down and not come back up and no matter how much the other boys got on his case, he wouldn't be convinced otherwise.

One day his dad, in a rare good mood, asked at supper how their day had been. Ryan kept his head down, his eyes focused on his plate. He didn't like meatloaf or canned peas, but he loved his mother's mashed potatoes. She used the electric beaters and whipped them so they were nice and fluffy. He shoveled a big mouthful into his mouth, and muttered, "Good," hoping that Trey would do likewise and nothing about his swimming, or lack of diving, would be mentioned.

Except Trey was mad at him because his friends were teasing him about Ryan's reluctance to dive. Trey hated looking stupid in front of his friends, especially for something Ryan did and it seemed like lately, Ryan was always doing something that infuriated him. Trey's natural instinct when he was humiliated was to retaliate and humiliate someone else. Unfortunately for Ryan, more often than not that someone else was him.

"Ryan acted like a baby at the pool today." Trey smirked at Ryan. Ryan wanted to slip from his chair and crawl under the table.

"Now, Trey," his mother said in that singsong voice of her, "Ryan is still a baby, aren't you, baby?"

Ryan hated when his mother talked like that – treated him like a baby just because he was the youngest. He narrowed his eyes at his mashed potatoes. "I'm not a baby."

"Yeah?" Trey's voice got louder. "Then how come you wouldn't dive into the pool like everyone else? Hell, even Ricky Mercer dove in the deep end, and he just turned six."

"Trey, watch your mouth," Dawn said.

"Why? I heard you say worse."

His father seemed oblivious to their exchange. He set his glass of beer down forcefully, sloshing some over the side. Ryan watched as the tablecloth soaked it up, concentrating on the edges of the blot as it widened, trying to ignore the attention his dad was directing towards him. "Were you embarrassing the Atwood name today, son?"

Ryan's lip started to tremble, so he took a deep breath to try to calm down. Crying wasn't going to make this any better. "No, sir."

"Atwood men are tough. They aren't afraid of anything. Right, Trey?"

Trey rubbed his forearm. "Tough as nails, Dad. Not afraid of nothing."

Ryan's eyes widened as he stared at Trey's arm and then looked at his father, unsure whether he was more scared or excited.

"John, he's just little."

"No littler than Trey was. He needs to toughen up." He picked up his beer again and took another swig before going back to eating his meal. "After supper, Ryan. I'll show you how to be an Atwood man."

Ryan couldn't finish eating. He'd seen the Atwood mark on his dad's arm, and he'd seen the matching mark on Trey's arm. He was excited that his dad was going to let him be a man just like Trey, though a pit was forming in his stomach because he wasn't sure he'd be able to live up to it.

After supper, Dawn started to clear away the dishes. Ryan got up to help, but his dad laid his hand on Ryan's wrist. "That's woman's work. If you're going to be a man, you stay here with the men." With a slight nod from John, Trey ran to get what they needed from the bedroom. Dawn stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room. "I don't think it's necessary."

"This doesn't involve you." He leaned in closer to Ryan. "Women don't understand what it takes to be a man – what it means to be an Atwood."

Trey came back and set the lighter and cigar by their dad's elbow. Ryan watched as the flame flickered on and the end of the cigar started to burn, turning bright red as his father sucked on it.

"You're not an Atwood man without the mark. And the mark doesn't count if you cry. Are you ready?"

Ryan pursed his lips as he slid his arm onto the table and nodded. It took every ounce of strength he had not to cry out as his father's fingers wrapped around his wrist and the cigar pressed against his skin.

* * *

It was a Saturday night, and Ryan was hanging out in the park with Trey, Arturo, and Eddie. Now that Ryan had reached middle school, Trey didn't mind him tagging along with him and his buddies. Arturo was carving his initials into the picnic table, concentrating hard on getting the curve of the 'G' rounded just right. Ryan was fascinated that Arturo didn't have the patience to sit still in class or study, but he'd spend hours perfecting his vandalism. 

As Arturo carved and Ryan watched, Trey and Eddie were having the same conversation they had every Saturday at this time.

"What are we gonna do tonight?"

"I dunno. What d'ya wanna do?"

"We could go to the movies?"

"Too expensive. Bowling?"

"Lame."

"This town sucks. There's never anything good going on."

As they began debating the merits of crashing Maria Imperato's party that night (pro – it was somewhere to go and something to do, con – they didn't have money for beer, pro – Arturo had a bag of weed, con – Maria's brother said if he ever saw Trey anywhere near her again, he'd get his jaw broken), they were distracted by a couple of college-aged guys walking by. The school jackets, the perfect hair, the creased pants all combined to make these guys stick out as people who definitely didn't belong in their part of town.

Arturo looked up when parts of their animated conversation drifted over to them. It didn't take a genius to piece together what 'dumbass', 'on empty', and 'gas station' meant; good thing too, Ryan thought, because no one would ever accuse the other three of being a brain trust. Arturo blew the sawdust off his carving and admired his handiwork before slipping his blade away, sliding off the table and nodding his head at the others to follow him.

As they headed across the park and passed under the streetlight, Trey glanced over at Ryan, who was hanging back a bit. "What's wrong, buddy?"

"I don't know about this, Trey."

Trey narrowed his eyes at him.

"They're just lost."

Trey grabbed his forearm and squeezed. "Don't make me regret letting you hang with us."

"I won't." If he wasn't allowed to hang with Trey and the guys, he'd end up at home with his mom and her flavor of the week, and that wasn't an option he was willing to consider.

Trey studied his face, then broke into a grin. "Good. Just back us up and run like hell when I tell you."

Arturo caught up to the guys first, asking if he could help them find a gas station. As the other guys joined him, he turned off his grin and pulled out his switchblade. "How about if you boys just give us your wallets, and we'll find the gas for you."

Everything happened in a flash. One guy reached for his wallet, but instead of pulling it out, he elbowed Eddie in the face behind him. The other guy reacted quickly, kicking at Arturo's hand and knocking the blade away. As the five older boys struggled with each other, Ryan saw an opening. He grabbed a wallet that was hanging out of a back pocket and flipped it quickly to Arturo. The guy who'd kicked the blade away managed to find it and swing it at Eddie. Seeing that they'd lost the upper hand, Trey yelled, "Run" and they all took off. Ryan was smaller and slower, allowing one of the guys to catch him and shove him against a wall.

"Little fucker, trying to take my wallet."

"Brad, he's just a kid. Let him go."

"Learn some respect, kid. You never know who you'll be tangling with." He threw Ryan against the wall and everything went black.

He woke up as he was being dragged into the park. "Stupid shit, I told you to run."

He was worried that Trey was mad at him, until he saw Arturo with a rare grin rifling through the wallet they'd gotten. "Good job, kid. Here's your share." He threw two twenties at Ryan, who grabbed them and shoved them in his pocket. "You can hang with us whenever you want."

* * *

It was Friday afternoon, a week after Ryan's sliding tackle on Luke. They had both come to an uneasy truce, helped by the fact that Luke had seemed to have moved on from Marissa and had been enjoying the company of a blonde from their history class. The coach had posted the final cuts the day before. There were three new players on the team, and Ryan was the only new player who wasn't a freshman. 

At the end of practice, as everyone was in the locker room, Brent, the captain, announced that everyone was required to meet in front of the school at nine o'clock that night for a team-building exercise. Josh, one of the other rookies, leaned over and whispered, "Team-building. Right. They're just not allowed to call it initiation anymore." They were instructed to wear dark clothing. Not showing up wasn't an option.

Ryan told the Cohens he was meeting Marissa, and he told Marissa that the Cohens told him he couldn't go out. He slipped into his leather jacket – the darkest thing he had and the most comfortable – and rode his bike over to the school. Most of the guys were already there. When Josh finally arrived, the seniors made him do ten push-ups for each of the five minutes he was late.

"Okay, boys, listen up. Tonight, you're going to TP Dr. Kim's house and you don't want to get caught. If she catches you, we'll all be in big trouble, because we're not allowed to do initiations and she'll probably disband the team if she finds out it was us."

"Then why are we risking it?" someone muttered from the back.

"Because we do it every year and it brings us together as a team. Either you're one of us or you're not."

Ryan felt a knot grow in his stomach. He was having a hard enough time fitting in, on the team and at the school, so he knew he had to go along, but if he got caught essentially vandalizing property, he'd be in big trouble with Sandy and his probation. Sandy had said they were only one mistake away from losing him and this could be it. But if he didn't do it, he'd be ostracized from the team and never have a chance at being accepted.

When they got to Dr. Kim's neighborhood, they piled out of the vehicles and Brent explained to them that Dr. Kim's house was a few blocks away and they didn't want to park too close in case she heard the car doors. Each rookie was handed a four-pack of toilet paper and told not to return until they were empty handed, and to remember that they were being watched and there would be a price to pay for anyone who simply stashed their rolls under a bush and didn't complete the mission.

They were pointed towards a house that had all its lights out. Ryan hoped that meant that Dr. Kim was asleep and not that she was out and would come home and interrupt them. Her front yard was landscaped beautifully, with a number of large trees and bushes – perfect, really, for TP-ing. The boys got to work, quickly strewing toilet paper from one end of the yard to the other until it looked like a toilet paper factory had exploded.

Ryan was just about finished with his fourth roll when he was bathed in alternating blue and red lights. He froze as the porch lights came on and Dr. Kim poked her head outside. "The cops are here, boys. Vandalism is not looked lightly upon at Harbor."

Ryan didn't wait around to see what everyone else was doing. He dropped his toilet paper and started to run. A cop was standing in front of him and he veered to the left, hoping to get past him. The cop grabbed for his arm, but Ryan pushed him back and kept going.

The cop's footsteps were pounding on the pavement, closing in behind him. He could hear the cop breathing hard. His hope that the cop would tire out before he got caught evaporated when he was tackled to the ground, and the wind was knocked out of him when the cop landed on top of him. As the cop handcuffed him, he pushed his knee into Ryan's back to hold him down.

"Son, running from the cops is never a good idea, but pushing one? Really stupid." The cop pulled him to his feet and shoved him in front of him, bringing him back to where the other boys were waiting and handcuffed. They were told to sit on the curb until they figured out what to do with them.

He was pissed off that he was going to jail again, and he knew Sandy was going to be very angry with him for going along with something so very stupid. He sat jiggling his legs and muttering "fuck" repeatedly.

"Chill, man," Josh said. "Our parents will all come and bail us out. It might have ruined soccer season, but it's not the end of the world."

"He's on probation," the other kid whispered to Josh. "He's the kid from Chino, remember?"

"Oh," Josh said. "What does that mean for you?"

"It means I'm probably going to juvie, so no soccer season is the least of my worries."

"Oh, man, that sucks."

One of the cops came over and hauled them to their feet. He released the first boy from his handcuffs. "You're free to go," the cop said.

"All of us?" Josh rubbed his wrists once they were free.

"Get out of here," the cop said. He grabbed Ryan's handcuffs. "You are one lucky kid tonight." He unlocked Ryan's wrists. "Don't think we didn't consider bringing you in for that little stunt you pulled."

Ryan's head was spinning at the turn of events. He had been prepared to lose this new life. He thought he'd be spending the night in juvie. He still couldn't figure out why he wasn't. He walked over to where all of the other players were waiting, along with Dr. Kim.

"Gotcha!" Brent said. He pointed towards the cop that Ryan had pushed. "That's my dad. He helped us set it up with Dr. Kim. She knew we were coming."

Everyone was laughing except for Ryan. There were a few good-natured punches on arms, but Ryan's fist was itching to connect with Brent's smug face. As they started to disperse and head back to their vehicles, Dr. Kim called him back.

"Mr. Atwood, I was disappointed to find you here tonight. You didn't know this was a prank. In the future, I'd recommend that you think about what you're doing and how it can affect you."

"Yes, ma'am." He felt like this was a test, and he'd just failed.

"You're a good student, and you seem to be keeping up with your work so far. I haven't had any complaints, and I don't want to."

Ryan nodded.

"I'd recommend you tell the Cohens what happened tonight. They're going to hear about it, and I think you'd prefer it came from you."

"Yes, ma'am."

The team went out for pizza together. No one seemed to notice Ryan's lack of enthusiasm as the other boys relived the evening and the thrill of getting the cops to come and help with the prank. The team-building exercise had backfired miserably in his case. He had no respect for these jerks who had put his whole future in jeopardy, but he wouldn't let them know it. He was just relieved when he was finally dropped off at the school to get his bike.

As he pedaled home, he realized that the lie he told Marissa – that the Cohens wouldn't let him go out – was probably soon going to be the truth once he told them what had happened that night.

* * *

The holiday season, coupled with his fight with Marissa, had put him into a melancholy mood, but Ryan had to admit that spending the previous evening hanging out with the Cohens and watching Sylvester Stallone movies had helped to lift his spirits. He had wanted to go with Marissa to her therapist appointment, to show his support and apologize for the way he'd acted on the way home, but Sandy's words had zeroed in on something he hadn't known he'd been feeling. He was tired of being the parent. He'd spent his childhood looking after his mother, watching over Trey, and now getting caught up in the maelstrom that was Marissa. It probably was time he let that go, though he wasn't sure he knew how to do it. 

He was feeling, if not cheerful then cautiously optimistic, about Christmas—Chrismukkah—this year. It felt weird to not be with his mother and brother, and he felt guilty, knowing that they were alone while he was in a place where he was surrounded by friends and family. He kind of had to admit that the Cohens were his family now, and not just a family he was staying with.

And now it was Christmas Eve. They were having dinner - just the four of them - which was the start of Kirsten's night of traditions. She'd said earlier, when she'd asked everyone to please dress nicely for the evening, that while Steven Seagal was acceptable for Hannukah, she was in charge of the entertainment for Christmas Eve.

Once he was dressed, he made his way through the house and found Kirsten in the dining room.

"You look nice," she said, and Ryan was glad he had finally settled on a tie. He'd been worried he'd be overdressed, and that Seth would accuse him of sucking up, but Kirsten was dressed up, and his tie seemed appropriate. "I'm just getting the table ready. The other guys are still getting dressed."

"Want some help?"

"Sure." She smiled gratefully at him, and he wondered if she was happy to finally have an ally on the 'gentile side of the table', as Seth had put it just the day before. "Here," she said, "put one of these at each place."

She handed him a box of cylindrical shaped things, covered in shiny gold and silver paper. At first, he thought they might have been napkins, but then he saw that each place setting already had a napkin at it.

Kirsten must have noticed him eyeing the objects warily, because she started laughing. "You don't know what Christmas crackers are, Ryan?"

He shook his head.

"Oh, they're lots of fun. You'll see. My mom always had them, and it doesn't feel like Christmas if we don't get crackers."

Sandy and Seth joined them and Sandy poured before dinner drinks for everyone - wine for the parents, juice for the boys. When Seth saw the crackers on the table, he got very excited. "Oh, awesome, Mom! I hope I get something good."

"Something good?" Ryan said as he sat down at his place.

"There are toys inside. And when I say something good, I mean a one of the cheap plastic toys that are always in these." He picked up his cracker and saw Ryan eyeing him intently. "Look, you grab the stick things on the inside and pull."

Seth demonstrated, and Ryan jumped at the little 'pop' sound it made. Then Sandy and Kirsten did theirs and they all looked at Ryan expectantly. He shrugged and attempted to pull his cracker but it didn't do anything.

"Pull harder," Seth said.

Ryan firmly grasped the sticks on the inside and pulled hard. He couldn't help smiling at his efforts when he finally got his to pop too.

"Open it up and see what you got!"

Ryan watched as the other Cohens emptied their crackers onto the table. He dumped his out and saw a piece of tissue paper, a plastic top, and piece of paper with writing on it. When he looked up again, all the Cohens had unfolded their tissue paper and were wearing the thin paper crowns on their heads.

"Come on, Ryan, put yours on."

"It's a Cohen tradition," Sandy said. "You're not really a Cohen until you wear the stupid paper hat. Kirsten insists."

He glanced at the pale pink tissue paper in his hand and then looked back up. "I don't really wear hats."

"Here, I'll trade with you," Kirsten said. She got up from her seat and took the dark blue hat off her head and placed it on Ryan's. Then she took the pink one from him for herself.

"Why did the golfer wear two pairs of pants?" Seth suddenly said.

"In case he got a hole in one!" Sandy said.

"Not fair," Seth said. "We get that one every year."

"How does a cow subtract?" Sandy asked. He paused for a moment, but when no one looked like they were going to answer, he finished it. "With a cow-culator!"

The jokes were lame, but Ryan found himself laughing at them too, though he thought that was more because the Cohens' enthusiasm was infectious.

"Come on, Ryan, what's yours?"

He searched for his piece of paper and found his joke. "What is grey, yellow, grey, yellow, grey, yellow, grey, yellow, grey, yellow, grey, yellow? An elephant rolling down a hill with a daisy in its mouth."

"I think you've got to work on your delivery, buddy," Seth said.

By the time the caterer came in with their first course, Kirsten was wearing her black plastic moustache, Sandy was trying to fit the tiny plastic ring onto his little finger, and Seth was making his plastic frog jump across the table at Ryan and then asking for it back.

After dinner, they moved their party to the den, where Kirsten had rented _It's a Wonderful Life_ and _A Christmas Story_. Ryan was just settling in on the couch when Sandy leaned over and said, "You know, you can take your crown off now."

It was so light that he'd forgotten it was still on his head. Apparently so had Seth and Kirsten, because they both were still wearing theirs too. They were arguing over which movie to watch first and looked utterly ridiculous in their hats.

"That's okay," he said. "I'll keep it on."

THE END


End file.
